Philomena    Don’t blame Raymond, he explained that he didn’t want to put any pressure on his friend Mr LeRoy. I know you’re upset about the money, but it can’t have gone, it must just be mislaid, that’s all. You’ve mislaid it.

Charles    It’s not fucking mislaid. It’s all I had, everything I had. How I am going to get home?

Philomena    Would you like me to have a look for you, Charles?

Charles wipes at his eyes and pours another whisky.

Charles    I’m stuck here . . . I’m stuck here like that stupid little bitch in Oz.

Philomena    Please! You’d make a stevedore blush, Charles Merryweather, you really would. You’ve been spending too much time around that horrible Bert Kowalski . . . I’ll have a look for you.

Charles (yelling)     ARE YOU DEAF?

Philomena    There’s no need to be . . . You might want to be askin your ‘good friend’ Mr Kowalski if he knows of your money’s whereabouts if you insist that it’s ‘gone’.

Charles    Bert’s a good friend of mine. Bert wouldn’t – just stay out of this.

Philomena    Very well, be like that. See if I care, I was only trying to help . . . and besides, if it has ‘gone’ it’ll have ‘gone’ on liquor that you’ve forgotten about.

Charles    I haven’t forgotten about liquor! Just . . . just leave me alone.

Philomena (looking around at the mess)     And if you think I’m cleaning this room up again, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m an actress not a bloody chambermaid.

Philomena picks up her make-up box and marches into the bathroom indignantly. Charles sits sobbing into the whisky. Bert enters dressed as a ‘Lollipop Kid’. He is smoking a very large cigar and is full of himself. Charles quickly wipes at his tear-stained face and tries to act normal. Offstage, we hear the bath taps running.

Bert    . . . What a guy. Victor Fleming. Victor Fleming’s some guy! If this picture don’t break all box-office records I’ll shave my ass in Times Square . . . Got talking to Mervyn at lunch, told him how much I enjoyed Fugitive from a Chain Gang, offered me a part in his next picture, he’s calling it Quo Vadis. Great title, beats me the fuck what it means, but, eh, beggars can’t be choosy . . . That fucken leprechaun in the tub again?

Charles nods his head in positive.

Bert    Fucken pussy of hers must stink like Docherty’s Pig time she spends in that tub. Should be careful she don’t wash that little Irish ass away.

He notices Charles’s downbeat mood.

’Sup with you, you need your diaper changing or something?

He picks up a bottle of whisky and pours the last drops out of it. He knocks back the whisky and sighs.

You fancy eating out at the diner tonight, Charlie?

Charles    I’ve no . . . I’m short –